He saw in her the light in which he so desperately craved; the joy which he had never felt.
She often pondered over his cruel ways and how they came to be.
He wished more than anything to untangle the thick rope attaching him to this mess, but didn't have the knowledge of how to do so. She wanted to help, but he was to stubborn to accept.
But he wasn't evil. He was lost, broken, confused… regardless of the cruelty of his actions and the blood on his palms, she always viewed him as good.
For in the bed of the jet black wings lived a single snow white feather isolated from the rest, struggling to survive, darkening with every passing sunrise and sun set. She could see the light fighting it's way through, struggling to surface itself.
And in her, he saw a trickle of darkness hiding beneath her pure white mask, shading itself from the rest of the world.
She was an angel seeking chaos.
He was a demon seeking peace.